


French Vanilla

by God_of_Ghosts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Kira, Barista Scott, Barista Stiles, Coming Out, Fluff, Fluid Sexuality, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Ghosts/pseuds/God_of_Ghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College freshman Liam Dunbar has a serious crush on a barista, and his daily trips to the campus café don't go unnoticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Vanilla

Liam sometimes referred to himself as a gravity bomb; when he fell, he fell hard and fast. But with his first week at BHU starting, still learning to navigate the halls of the old gothic buildings, still getting used to sleeping so far away from home with only his best friend’s snores a few feet away bringing him comfort, even he didn’t have time for girls.  
  


Boy, was he right.  
 

“I swear, he zeroes in on me,” Liam was saying, trudging up the level of steps outside the main pavilion that the students called the “Coliseum .” Mason laughed beside him, his head down in thought. “Like no matter where I sit, he stares right at me the whole lecture and I feel so pressured.”  
 

“I told you to get Peter Hale for World Lit.,” Mason said. “Dude cradles a Lager the whole lecture and stands on desks. Pretty dramatic.”  
 

“Whatever,” Liam said, wondering if it was too late to change his schedule. Dr. Valack was way too creepy to deal with for five months. “I just need caffeine. Shake off class.”  
 

They reached a small building on the edge of the university’s grounds. A sign over the door depicted a cartoony timber wolf munching a box of French fries with the words “Wolf’s Den” highlighted below. There was already a long line at the front counter, and the soft din of low chatter and keyboard strokes filled the air. Liam inhaled the scent of coffee beans and followed Mason to the back of the line, where a blond-haired guy had his arm around a petit girl. They glanced back in-sync, both smiling and saying good morning.  
 

“It’s after twelve,” Mason said, cringing.  
 

“It’s morning when you don’t have class until two,” Garrett said, sticking his tongue out.  
 

“Shut up,” Liam laughed. Garrett turned around when it was his turn in line, Violet sidling up the counter beside him with a bored expression. He turned to say something to Mason when motion caught his eye. One of the baristas swept past them to the closest table; dark, curly hair gelled back to expose his angular face and crooked jaw. Liam’s words died on his tongue, eyes drawn to the barista’s arms as he wiped down a table, biceps contracting in quick pulses. Just as fast, the man was gone, flitting back behind the counter.  
 

“Liam,” Mason was shaking him, “it’s your turn to order.”  
 

“Hm?” Liam turned to see a brown-haired boy narrowing his eyes at him through his thick-framed glasses.  
 

“What can I get for you?” he said.  
 

“Uh, large French vanilla iced latte,” Liam said quickly, his ears red.  
 

“What’s your name?” The cashier asked.  
 

“Liam.” He waited as the guy scrawled his name out with a Sharpie, and Liam paid for the drink, making room for Mason to take his order. He stared down at his receipt and forced himself to read off the letters and numbers, focusing. He wasn’t himself. Maybe he should’ve asked for an espresso shot.  
 

“Liam,” someone called out. Liam went to the pick-up counter, freezing when the barista from before stood with his drink in hand. The guy raised an eyebrow. “Did you want whipped cream on it?”  
 

“It’s not fun without whipped cream,” Liam said. The guy’s face broke into a grin.  
 

“I like your idea of fun,” he said. He shook a can of whipped cream and sprayed a perfect spiral into the latte. He winked before sliding the cup down the counter. “Enjoy your order.”  
 

“T-Thanks,” Liam said. He took the drink and squinted at the barista’s nametag. “Scott,” he muttered. The guy looked back at him, eyebrows raised. Liam sputtered, blushing. “Oh, I was just looking at your nametag. Um, have a good day.” He turned away before he could say something doubly stupid, but not before hearing Scott chuckle behind him. He shot for a booth hidden away from the front counter, deciding it would be better to wait for Mason and compose himself. What was that? He kept feeling the temptation to glance around his seat at the counter, but he held himself still. There was just something odd about the guy’s face, that’s all. Like smelling gasoline; didn’t mean you were sick in the head and liked the smell of gasoline, but once you catch a whiff, you can’t help but sniff a little. Liam bit down on his lip, groaning. That had to be it. Some people just have interesting faces… and arms… and perfect smiles.  
 

“Hey, wanna split this muffin with me?” Mason slid into the seat in front of Liam, drink and larger-than-life muffin in hand. “I know you’re a chocolate chip fan—Liam?” His expression grew serious, but Liam broke out a smile.  
 

“Sure, that’s my fave.” Mason studied his face another half-second, then he went on to talk about his Advanced Clinical Psych. class. Liam drew himself into Mason’s world, forgetting all about the tawny-skinned boy with the whipped cream innuendos.  
  


 **• • • • •  
**  

“You just had coffee like two hours ago,” Violet complained as Liam dragged the gang to the Wolf’s Den for the second time that day. It was week two at BHU, so he knew the perfect time to dodge the long lines, and he didn’t get lost as often. Still, Garrett and Violet were giving him shady looks as he walked inside the café; Mason trailed behind them, one hand gripping Liam’s backpack strap like a tether as he half-sleepwalked from their dorm to the Wolf’s Den. No complaints from him about caffeine after his late night paper.  
 

Liam scanned the area as he made his way to the front counter. No Scott. His shift couldn’t have ended that fast. He hid his disappointment and tried for a smile at the cashier, the guy with the glasses who’d taken his order last week.  
 

“Back already?” The guy said, cracking a sly smile.  
 

“I love my coffee,” Liam said.  
 

“Same as usual?”  
 

“Yes, please, and a strawberry frappe for my passenger.” The guy shot him a weird look at that, but smiled and scribbled his name on a cup before pressing a few keys on his monitor. He handed Liam his receipt. “Thank you…” he squinted at his nametag, “Stiles?”  
 

“It’s a nickname.” Liam shrugged and went to the pick-up counter, still towing a sleepy Mason behind him. The café’s side door opened and a young man strode in backwards, tugging a dolly of boxes through the door. Liam made an audible hiss, watching Scott pull the load through his peripheral vision. This guy was always doing _something_ with his arms. Scott pulled the dolly through the kitchen doors and disappeared.  
 

“Liam,” a cheerful voice called out his name. He looked up to see a smiling Asian girl, eyes sparkling with glittery liner and a happy-face sticker dotting one cheek. “Hey, weren’t you here a couple of hours ago?”  
 

“Yeah, have to get my fix,” Liam said.  
 

The girl smiled and slid his cup down the counter. “You have one more drink, right? Hold on.” She spun back to one of the machines behind the counter, working coffee magic while humming an upbeat tune. She opened up a pitcher of milk when she bumped into Stiles, spilling milk all over the floor.  
 

“Kira!” Stiles held his shirt out and groaned.  
 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Kira clasped one hand to her mouth. “I’ll get the mop.”  
 

“Already on it.” Scott had emerged from the kitchen and handed Kira a mop. He took what remained of the milk and the cup from Kira’s hands and spun to the ice machine. He glanced over at Liam, shouting “Strawberry frappe, right?” over the clamor of crushing ice. Liam just nodded, overwhelmed. Kira shot him a silent “sorry” and started mopping up the milk, but he wasn’t paying attention, his gaze following Scott as he approached the pick-up counter, spraying whipped cream into the frappe.  
 

“Sorry about the wait,” Scott said, sliding the drink to him. “Are you, uh…” Scott screwed up his eyes before snapping his fingers, “acclimating to the school?”  
 

“I guess,” Liam laughed. His stomach was jittery.  
 

“I’m working on expanding my vocabulary,” Scott said. “Taking a break from your French vanilla?”  
  


“This is for my friend,” Liam said.  
 

Scott nodded at Mason. “Mr. Caboose? Wake up, man.” He snapped his fingers, and Mason shook awake.  
 

“Wha?” He took his frappe from Liam, blinking sleep away. “Aww, you paid for me.”  
 

“What are friends for,” Liam muttered, still staring at Scott, who just grinned at him.  
 

“Do you need anything else?” Scott said.  
 

“Um…” Liam dug through his brain; he had to have a witty retort somewhere, something rom-com worthy, but he came up empty. “When do you get off?”  
 

“In an hour, but I have Statistics at two.” His voice drew to a low curl, lips fighting back a smile. “Why?”  
 

“I was just curious.”  
 

“Have any fun plans in mind?” Scott shook the can of whipped cream and winked at him, laughing when Liam flushed pink down to his neck. He cleared his throat when Violet and Garrett joined them. They gave him questioning looks, but didn’t say anything. Scott ran back behind the counter to serve another customer, all thoughts of Liam probably gone by now. Liam slurped his coffee, trying to ignore the ache wracking his body; he couldn’t tell between the sugar rush, the jitters Scott gave him, and the hollow that spread whenever he turned his back on Liam.  
  


• • • • •  
  


“Oh man I love Aquaman so much!” Liam hopped on his bed, comic book open in one hand and an iced latte in the other. “Everyone thinks he’s so lame but he’s badass, he just flew—”  
  


“Aquaman doesn’t fly,” Mason groaned from the other bed, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his glasses as he flipped through a textbook.  
 

“He’s flying in this one because he uses water—oh man, he killed somebody! Forget Batman, forget Superman, Aquaman kills people and he gives zero shits—”  
 

“Liam, you’re bouncing like a seven-year-old,” Mason said. Liam flopped down onto the bed, but he was kicking his feet in the air above him. “It’s almost 2 AM, don’t you have an off-switch?”  
 

“Nope. Wanna play _Injustice_? Throw marshmallows at Garrett? Wanna get a coffee?”  
 

“We already—Liam, you’re too juiced up right now. How much coffee have you had today?”  
 

“A lot…” Mason rolled his eyes as Liam giggled. The kid was bouncing off the walls like they were ten-years-old again. The plus side was that Liam had somehow finished two essays in an hour and was revising Mason’s for him, but he’d never sleep at this rate.  
 

By day 3, Mason was fed up. It was a Friday afternoon, Professor Hale had let them out early because he had an appointment, and Liam was gushing about how easy the class was compared to Dr. Valack’s.  
 

“No creepy staring actually stimulates the mind,” Liam said, bouncing a little despite the dark circles around his eyes. “Do you wanna grab a coffee and—”  
 

“Ogle your favorite tall glass of water?” Mason shot in. He rubbed his eyes. If he wasn’t so tired and irritated with Liam, he’d probably come up with a better metaphor.  
 

“What?” Liam said.  
 

“That’s it, we’re doing this.” Mason took Liam’s arm and pulled him along the path, marching until they were at the Wolf’s Den.  
 

“So you do want coffee,” Liam said, his heart beating fast.  
 

“I’m not slow, Liam. You’re here three times a day so you can check out that guy.” Liam opened his mouth to rebuttal, but the look on Mason’s face silenced him. Before he could stop him, Mason pushed open the doors and marched inside.  
 

Kira was at the register, chatting excitedly with a customer before handing over her change, and Mason hurried to her.  
 

“Hi again,” she said, smiling at him. She waved at Liam, who lingered half-hidden behind the trash can at the door. “What can I get you?”  
 

“Scott,” Mason said. “Is he here?”  
  


Kira pouted. “Nope, he traded shifts with Malia today. I can tell him you were looking for him when he comes in tomorrow.”  


“Awesome,” Mason said, glancing at Liam as the blushing kid ran over.  
 

“Wait, you don’t have to tell him,” he said, a little breathless. Kira’s smile widened, and she shared a look with Mason.  
 

“Yes, tell him Liam was looking for him and really _really_ wanted to talk about something important.”  
 

“No, I wasn’t,” Liam said.  
 

Mason grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen. “In fact, here’s his number so Scott can call him.”  
 

“Mason!”  


“Alrighty, I’ll make sure he gets it,” Kira said, chuckling softly as Liam shoved his friend. “Are you going to order, too?”  
 

“No, I think we’re coffee’d out for now,” Mason said, smirking when Liam punched him in the arm. He pulled Liam into a chokehold and made his way to the door, calling out, “Thanks, Kira!” before they were in the sun again.  
 

Liam forced his way out and glared at Mason. “What was that?”  


Mason shrugged. “That was me taking action. You’ll thank me later.” He hurried off, Liam falling behind him with a peeved look. He gave Mason the cold shoulder all the way to the quad, trying to stay mad, but he knew Mason saw him check his phone every two minutes. Garrett and Violet were sitting under a tree on a blanket, Violet typing on her laptop with a pencil between her teeth, Garrett tuning his guitar.  
 

“Really Garrett, you’re going to be that one asshole who plays guitar on the quad?” Mason laughed, plopping down beside them. Liam dropped next to him, still quiet.  
 

“Well I wasn’t leaving this at home,” Garrett muttered. “My aunt would’ve sold it at a garage sale.”  
 

“Hey, play Wonderwall,” Liam joked, prompting a playful glare from Garrett.  
 

“You’re supposed to be helping me with our letter,” Violet said, sounding almost feral with the pencil in her mouth. She pulled it out and stuck it in her hair. “We have to keep Meredith up to date with our studies or she could pull funding from us.” Liam knew this. Meredith was their benefactor; something like putting orphans through college was right at the top of her list of righteous deeds, though she was a little whacky and unpredictable.  
 

“I told you I’d read it over when you’re done,” Garrett said, plucking the B-string lightly and cocking his head. “Flat.” He gazed up at Liam. “You’re suspiciously not-bouncy today. What’s wrong?”  
 

“I’m fine,” Liam said, in a way that was clearly _not_ _fine_.  
 

“You sound like you’re on withdrawal,” Garrett said. “Not getting your hourly coffee?”  
 

“He’s taking a break,” Mason said, trying not to smile.  
 

Garrett caught his eye and smirked, then poked Liam’s leg with his shoe. “You asked out Kira?”  
 

“What?” Liam and Mason said together.  
 

“Dude, just do it,” Garrett said.  
 

“What makes you think I like Kira?” Liam said.  
 

“Last time we were there, she was there, you were smiling, your face got all pink, I could’ve sworn she was nervous around you the way she spilled all that milk.”  
 

“It’s not like that,” Liam said, blood rushing in his ears.  
 

“Bro, let me help you out,” Garrett said. “We can pop in later and lay the charm on her.”  
 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mason muttered.  
 

“She’s obviously into you, look at how—”  
 

“I don’t like Kira, I like Scott!” Liam huffed out a heavy breath and felt the blood drain from his face. Garrett’s face was frozen mid-word, his mouth hanging open, and Violet looked up from her laptop, eyes wide.  
 

“Wait, you’re gay?” Garrett said, his voice cutting.  
 

“No, no I’m not.” Liam looked between him and Violet, then glanced at Mason. “I like girls.”  
 

“But you like Scott,” Violet said. “The barista with the tribal tattoo?”  
 

“Which one?” Liam said quickly.  
 

“So that would make you gay,” Garrett said again.  
 

“Human sexuality is fluid and unique to everyone,” Mason said. “Liking one guy doesn’t make Liam gay.”  
 

“So all those times I undressed in front of you…” Garrett started.  
 

“Seriously?” Liam said.  
 

Mason stood up. “Hold up, _I’m_ gay. The fuck is that supposed to mean?”  
 

“You’re gay, too?!” Violet said.  
 

“I’m actually not gay—” Liam began, but Mason was on a rage, now.  
 

“Um, duh? You saw me kissing my ex at your birthday party.”  
 

“I thought you were just drunk,” Garrett said.  
 

“I don’t drink!”  
 

“Why didn’t you tell us you were gay,” Violet said.  
 

“You never told me you’re left-handed, but I can clearly see you writing with it,” Mason said. “Would you like me to announce my shoe size as well? I hope you don’t mind being friends with a 12. Come on, Liam!” He dragged Liam up by his bag and marched off. The last thing Liam saw was the shared look on Garrett and Violet’s faces: repulsion.  
  


 **• • • • •  
**  

“Never start with your intro paragraph,” Lydia was saying, though Liam was hardly paying attention. The library was louder than usual, too many students crowding the place at once to study for midterms, so he and Lydia had grabbed a table in the corner by a floor-to-ceiling window, bringing them much needed sunlight. Liam had about two weeks left to prep, and Lydia was the best tutor, but his heart wasn’t in it.  
 

“Are you listening?” Lydia nudged him, tapping the paper in front of him with a glossy, pink pen. “This is key to knocking out a good essay, even I have to use it.” She saw his dejected stare and sighed, flipping back her rosy hair as she puckered her lips in thought. “Liam, how would you summarize a movie you’ve never seen?”  
 

“Huh?” Liam snapped out of his stupor, frowning. “I wouldn’t.”  
 

“Exactly. Don’t write the intro paragraph until you have the body of the essay done.” She was a genius. Liam knew that on one of his exams, he’d have to write an essay in thirty minutes, and while his writing was pretty good, he didn’t have the speed.  
 

“I understand,” Liam said.  
 

“So I have a few prompts prepared. If you divide up your essay by thirty minutes, you can spend 3-to-5 minutes on your intro, so you need to write really clean theses.” Lydia set down her pen and laid her head in her hands. “What’s wrong?”  
 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Liam said.  
 

Lydia rolled her eyes, muttering, “freshmen,” and focused on him, more intense this time. “Last week, you could barely sit still my whole lesson. Something’s obviously wrong.” Liam opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Where could he start? He had a crush that, fun at first, had become something gnawing and aching in his chest, exacerbated by his caffeine withdrawals and lack of phone calls, two of his friends from his hometown had turned on him in his hour of need, and he was playing catch-up on academic techniques he’d never learned in high school. His tongue failed him, but his eyes spoke volumes.  
 

“Heartache?” Lydia guessed. Liam nodded slowly. “Who is she?” Liam sunk into his seat. “Or he?” At that, Liam’s eyes widened.  
 

“He works at the Wolf’s Den,” Liam said. “I don’t know how long he’s been here, or what his major is, I just like him.”  
 

“What’s his name?”  
 

Liam rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, inhaling a deep breath. “Scott.”  
 

“McCall?” Lydia’s whole face brightened.  
 

“You know him?”  
 

“We’re competing for the same TA slot. He’s got charm, but I’m more efficient, and Deaton knows it.”  
 

Liam felt a small surge of energy, revitalized. “What’s he like outside his uniform? Does he, um, is he with anyone?”  
 

“He’s single, and as far as I can tell, pretty versatile.” Lydia raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known him since kindergarten.” Liam’s heart swelled. Maybe he had a chance after all—minus the fact that Scott had yet to call him. As if Lydia had spoken a magic word, Liam was enchanted, spilling out everything all at once.  
 

“I’ve been going there like three times a day to see him, and he knows my order, and we usually trade jokes and he makes these innuendos and this smirk like is he flirting with me? Is he just really friendly? Then my friend gave Kira my number—do you know Kira? Oh ok—and she said she’d give it to Scott and he hasn’t called, I’m freaking out.” Liam slapped his hands over his eyes, groaning as he slid down in his seat.  
 

All Lydia did was grunt, prompting a stare from Liam. “Kira probably lost the number,” she said, a laugh creeping into her voice. “If you haven’t been to there since that day, she would’ve never gotten the chance to ask for it again.”

 

“Oh no…” Liam sunk even farther.  
 

“But…” Lydia sunk her fingertips under her jawline, staring off into space with a devious smile. “A diversion is one of the oldest strategies in the book. That TA slot is mine.”  
 

“What are you talking about?” Liam asked.  
 

“Nothing. Hey Mason!” She waved at Mason, who trudged up to their table and set down a cardboard box.  
 

“Hey guys, thought I’d bring muffins.” He opened the box to reveal a row of them.  
 

“Blueberry?” Lydia asked.  
 

“You know it,” Mason said. He smirked at Liam, who looked confused. “Lydia’s my lab partner.”  
 

“He’s more competent than most,” Lydia said, biting a chunk into her muffin. “I got lucky this semester. God, this muffin is heaven. Thanks, Mase.”  
 

“No problem. Any luck today?” He phrased the question too lightly, catching Liam’s eye. Liam made a curt nod, prompting Mason to tilt his head to one side. Lydia watched all of this with narrowed eyes, her chewing slowing.  
 

“Interesting body language,” she said. She smoothed back a lock of hair behind an ear and sighed. “Liam told me everything. I told him he’s got a chance with Scott and that Kira probably lost his number by accident.”  
 

“Oh?” Mason nodded, then his eyes widened. “Oh ho! We need to go see Kira, then.”  
 

“Mmmm I wouldn’t worry about it,” Lydia said. She winked at Mason, almost out of Liam’s view. “I’m sure things will work out fine. My intuition is never wrong.”  
 

“What’s that mean?” Liam looked between them, catching the smile growing on Mason’s face. “What?”  
 

“She’s right,” Mason said, parking beside Liam. “You should focus on your work.” The looks he and Lydia kept passing each other was starting to bug Liam, but he knew they’d never spill if they thought they were helping him. Sighing, he picked up his pen again, twisted from his biting, and started a practice thesis.  
  


 **• • • • •  
**  

Liam shrugged on his backpack and followed the crowd of students out the lecture hall, the buzz of test-related chatter pattering out around him. For most of them, Liam included, this was the last exam for midterms, and despite the collective fatigue, everyone was excited to toss off test-stress and party. Liam separated from the crowd as soon as possible. The only ones who kept him hip to parties weren’t talking to him right now, and he’d avoided them as much as possible, only running into Garrett in the communal kitchen once and realizing the guy was the reason he and Mason didn’t starve half the time.  
 

“Liam!” Liam’s head turned. Garrett was walking through the pavilion toward him, his face set into a hard expression. For a second, Liam couldn’t see the friend he’d made it through high school with. All he saw was stone. Turning away, Liam unbuckled his longboard from his backpack and hopped on, skating past an irate security guard and blending into the crowd around the Coliseum. He hopped off the board and checked his surroundings—no Garrett in sight. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he figured Garrett was trying to call him. He didn’t feel like hearing fake apologies or bearing any stupid questions like “So which one is the girl in the relationship?” Still, it could be Mason picking up Chinese food for him like he’d promised. Liam pulled out his phone and squinted at the screen: he didn’t know the number.  
 

“Hello?” Liam said.  
 

“Hi, is this, uh, Liam?” The voice was boyish and musical, familiar but rendered alien through static. Liam frowned to himself, trying to place it. “This is Scott.”  
 

“This is Liam,” Liam blurted out. His heart started pounding, and he looked around nervously at the crowd, feeling vulnerable. “Hi,” he said, striding over to a column he could hide behind.  
 

“Hi,” Scott said again, a smile in his voice. “Um, Lydia gave me your number and said you wanted to talk to me about something.”  
 

“She did?” Liam sucked in air, trying to keep his breathing normal.  
 

“Yeah, what did you want to talk about?” He didn’t sound annoyed or bored, just interested, but Liam was still nervous.  
 

“Uh… are you working today?” He was fumbling bad.  
 

“I’m here right now,” Scott said, sounding amused. “But I’m off in ten minutes. Why?”  
 

“I was wondering if, um, if maybe you’d like to—if you could make my coffee?” Liam almost threw his phone. What was wrong with him?  
 

“You want me to make your coffee now?” Scott’s voice was more forced, and Liam could almost cry. “Like for you to pick up? That’s an odd request.” Liam didn’t answer, still frozen and wanting to bang his head against something. “I mean, I don’t mind. I can have it ready for you. French vanilla iced latte?”  
 

“That’s the one,” Liam said.  
 

“Alright. See you soon, Liam.” He hung up, and Liam dropped his phone into his lap. Was it his imagination or did Scott sound disappointed? He’d be disappointed, too, if someone called his personal number for work-related crap. Liam wiped at his face and sighed, figuring he could find a way to patch this. He rose from the ground and skirted around the column, throwing down his longboard.  
  


Liam dug through his mental archives as he approached the Wolf’s Den. He had half a speech prepared to deliver, and he was ready to march in and make this right, one hand on the door as he hopped off his board, when he heard his name. He looked around, confused.  
 

“Liam?” And there was Scott, sitting on a bench a few yards away. His hair was in a spiked mess, cut shorter than the last time Liam had seen him, and he had a sleeveless leather jacket over a white hoodie, white chinos, and Timberland boots. Liam froze at the sight of him, having never seen him outside his uniform. Scott bit his lip before smiling, and he gestured for Liam to join him.  
 

“Hi,” Scott said as Liam sat next to him.  
 

“I’m really sorry about that,” Liam said. “I was caught off guard, so I asked for a coffee, but I really just wanted to talk to you.”  
 

Scott’s eyebrows rose, but he smiled. “Really?”  
 

“Yes, I’m so sorry.” Liam folded his hands and stared at the ground. “I really like you, okay? That’s why I’m always here. That’s why I was so nervous.”  
 

“You like me?” Hearing the smile in his voice, Liam looked up. Scott was grinning, not the way he did when he made a joke, but sincere. Liam looked in his eyes and nodded. Scott held out a capped cup, saying, “Here’s your coffee.”  
 

“I-I didn’t pay for it,” Liam said, hesitating to take it.  
 

“Don’t worry about it. Here.” Liam took the coffee, surprised by its warmth. “I figured you wouldn’t want it iced since it’s like sixty degrees outside.”  
 

“Thank you,” Liam said, cradling it in his hands.  
 

“Liam, turn it over,” Scott’s voice was soft, almost cooing. Liam indulged him, turning the cup until he saw Scott’s choppy letters in purple Sharpie on the back, reading: “Go out with me?” Liam read it five times, then looked up at Scott, who asked the same question with his eyebrows and a dopey grin.  
 

“Yes.”  
  


 **• • • • •  
**  

A shirt sailed through the air, and Mason dodged without taking his eyes off his notebook. Another shirt sailed his way, and he caught it in one hand.  
 

“Mason help, I’m gonna look like a dork on my first date.” Liam stood up and examined the shirt he was wearing. It was nice, but there was a mustard stain on the front. Liam shrugged it off.  
 

“I told you I was doing laundry yesterday,” Mason said. “Why don’t you wear the gray sweater?”  
 

“It’s too big on me.”  
 

“What about the green one on the floor?”  
 

“Too thick. I’ll get hot and have to take it off.”  
 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Mason chuckled. There was a knock at the door, and a blond head poked in.  
 

“Mason? Liam?” Garrett. He lingered in the doorway and fiddled with a loose thread in his shirt.  
 

Liam glared at him. “Are you here with the Conservative Moms Committee to ruin my first date?”  
 

“No!” Garrett sighed. “I came to apologize.” He stepped inside and held up a V-neck sweater, striped blue-and-green. “It’s too small for me, but it’d be perfect for your date.”  
 

Liam begrudgingly took the sweater. “Thanks.” He glanced at Mason, who flipped a page in his notebook like he hadn’t a care. “What about Mason?”  
 

“Oh he baked my like three dozen chocolate chip cookies,” Mason said. “We’re fine.”  
 

“Are we cool?” Garrett asked.  
 

“And Violet?” Liam said, eyebrows furrowed.  
 

“She’ll come around,” Garrett said. “She just likes to think she knows everything. Unpredictable things throw her off.”  
 

Liam sighed and held out his fist. “We’re cool.” Garrett bumped his fist, and they couldn’t help but smile.  
 

“Good luck on your date,” Garrett said before leaving. Just like that, the nerves came back, and Liam was shrugging into his sweater—which had the faint scent of lemon and honey—and slipped into his shoes.  
 

“Well, here goes,” he said, posing for Mason. The sweater went well with his tan jeans. He was trying to appear casual; admitting you stalked someone for weeks didn’t set a good precedent for a relationship, so he had to pull back or he’d scare Scott off.  
 

“You’re going to do fine,” Mason said. “It’s just like dates with girls—I think—except you have something more in common. Talk to him like you’re becoming his friend, not like you want the dick.”  
 

“Okay but what if I want the dick?”  
 

“Then you are taking this very well,” he laughed. “Have fun, use a condom, keep me updated or I’ll think he ax-murdered you.” Mason shot him a smile. “But really, have fun. I’m happy for you, buddy.”  
 

Liam nodded, exhaling a nervous breath. “Thanks.”  
 

The parking lot outside student housing was mostly empty, as if half of that block’s students had fled on post-midterms frenzy. A lone bike was parked by the sidewalk; Scott leaned against, leather jacket present over black pants, so he almost blended into the night but for his skin. He rose with a smile when he saw Liam.  
 

“You ready to go?”  
 

Liam nodded fast, trying not to smile like an actual fifth grader. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
 

Scott pushed his hair back and said something about wind shear, then handed Liam a biker helmet. They were suddenly standing pretty close, and heat radiated between them as Scott fit the helmet over his head. Liam grabbed his hands halfway and tossed the helmet off, surging forward to press a kiss against Scott’s lips, chaste and sweet.  
 

“I really needed to do that,” Liam breathed out, pulling away. Scott made that grin again—the one that electrified Liam’s heart. His hand worked its way to Liam’s back and pressed them closer, and they were kissing again, Scott’s lips pushing slow vibrations into Liam’s until the latter almost moaned. Scott pulled away, the child-like grin turned coy.  
 

“The date hasn’t even started,” Scott joked. “I’ll run out of tricks before we even get there.”  
 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a few of my own.” Liam winked and slid the helmet on. He hopped on the back of the motorcycle, wrapping his hands around Scott’s waist as he revved up the engine. It was chilly for early November, but Liam had never felt warmer. Everything was new—new town, new school, adulthood too, but like all of those, Scott was as addicting as he was confusing. Liam told himself he didn’t have to figure this out. It wasn’t math, it didn’t need to be solved, he just had to enjoy it. He pressed his fingers into Scott’s stomach and rest his head on his back. Scott kicked off, and they sped out of the parking lot.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun. I liked it better than my first fic. Tried to flesh out Garrett and Violet as more than just child killers, though Violet had even less scenes and lines than Garrett. Creative license taken.


End file.
